


Red Birds Of A Feather

by StoryCloud



Category: Angry Birds - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryCloud/pseuds/StoryCloud
Summary: Terence finds Red as a hatchling, and decides that he’s his now.





	Red Birds Of A Feather

**Author's Note:**

> A little idea that popped into my head. Drabble, I guess. Movie-verse.

It was the dead of night.

You’d never meet a bird up this late, no sir. Unless you counted a colossal mass or wine red feathers a bird. The path stones were about as broad as his feet. His shadow, bulbous and almost as big as the smaller houses, slung itself slowly across the moon-like grass.

Plod. Plod. Plod.

He preferred walking at night. He didn’t really care if people leaped off the road when he moved by; but the lack of chattering voices did swell things for the mind.

So it was not a good thing when he heard something chatter.

He went still. Impeccably, like a stone boulder. Then with an ominous steadiness, the giant bird turned his form to glare in the general direction.

Lost and Found. No door; just a little archway. Anyone could waltz in.

In the dimness inside he saw a pair of eyes watching him disappear quickly in fright.

“…Mmm.”

A few slow, loud steps later, and Terence was poised directly outside the door. His already stooped head peered in.

Something round and nestled in hay. An egg, with a conspicuous hole in its side. Brows furrowing further, Terrance reached in –

And seized the entire counter, dragging it closer to the doorway because there was no logically way he’d fit. So this was the roundabout way.

With one hand he plucked up the egg. This wasn’t usual, an egg lying around. Perhaps a part of him say this as some kind of transgression or even a prank. Either way he didn’t like the little chirping noise he’d heard.

It had already hatched. It should not be staying in there.

Without hesitation, he cuffed the top of the egg clean off.

Inside, squirming as far as it could away from him into the lower half of its egg, was a hatchling. Terence stared down at it, his face shrouded in shadow and the moon behind him, imposing and downright terrifying. His brow fell further. “Hmmmmm.”

Who’s was it?

With his free hand, he reached in. The hatchling started chirping, batting tiny, tiny little wings at him.

…He was red.

Terence’s feathered wingtips scooped up the little form, leaving the egg to drop. His prominent brows lifted in surprise.

…The hatchling had very large eyebrows as well, darker red spots dotting his little body. Balled wings swung at him fruitlessly. He’d never seen one of these little things glare before.

He looked like him, and that threw the giant bird for a loop.

He stared at this little creature in bemusement for a while. The hatchling was realizing that his punches weren’t helping, and the frown receded. Then his lip wobbled, fright apparently on his similar but undeniably soft features.

Distressed, the hatchling began squirming. Terence’s look grew slightly worried.

Slowly, he lifted the tiny thing closer.

At first the hatchling cowered, kicking his legs. Then he stared back at him in equal bewilderment.

Then, cautiously, the baby bird reached out and touched Terence’s face.

Terence froze. He did not know what to make of this. Where did he come from, this tiny him?

A small squeak brought him out of his thoughts. The hatchling was yawning, drooping in his giant hands. He fit perfectly there, snug and secure, and seemed more content now.

There was no way to tell where this being had come from, or where his true parents where. But one thing was for certain – this tiny thing was his now.

…Terence’s face melted into a heavy, rare smile.

…

The community was completely baffled.

Sometime in the night, Terence had acquired a hatchling. Many stopped and shamelessly stared when they saw him striding by, a tiny little ball of redness tucked in one arm.

He brought the baby most places, and barely let him get yards away. He’d sit at the edge of play parks and let the hatchling toddle around, blissfully unaware of gawking onlookers, while Terence wilfully ignored other terrified ‘parents’.

Anyone who peered too long at the hatchling, though, received a deadlier glare than usual.

One mother, however, her fourth egg strapped to her via carrier and her other children playing on the swings, decided to bravely and amiably reach out.

“He’s gorgeous, Terence.” She said, pleasantly. Terence studied her with a neutral frown as Red, as the community had taken to dubbing him, stumbled around nearby. “And doesn’t he look like you?”

Red was demonstrating his ‘angry face’ to several confused fellow toddlers.

Slowly, Terence’s beak quirked into a smile.


End file.
